


Madohomu Drabbles

by clem_ents



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Drabbles, F/F, Fic Dump, leave comments for requests!, this is usually just fluff, update when i feel like it??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 17:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5793841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clem_ents/pseuds/clem_ents
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just a place to put all my madohomu drabbles! please enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. HEARTLINES

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this one a long time ago, but i still think it's pretty good? tell me what you think!
> 
> prompt: red strings of fate

It was a clear morning. 

"Class, today we will be having a new student joining us- please be respectful and welcome Mrs. Homura into our school." The teacher at the front of the classroom announced as she shuffled with the papers on her desk in a useless attempt to organize them. She was overworked, Madoka could tell, her eyes sunken in slightly and her features just a little too pale. Madoka's eyes flitted over to her heartstrings, spun together in a little braid dangling from around her wrist, representing each person in her life she had shared a deep bond with. One was severed- she must of lost a loved one recently. Madoka felt pity and sadness for her teacher, who had been working nonstop for the past month. The poor woman deserved a break.

Madoka was unsure how deep the bond had to be in order to form a heartstring, but she knew that out of all her friends, Sayaka was the only one with whom she shared one. She remembers asking Sayaka about hers, a couple years back.

"What do you mean? You have at least.." Madoka counted out her strings aloud, totaling them up to 6. "Don't you feel them?" 

Madoka and Sayaka were splayed out on Sayaka's bed, Madoka twisting Sayaka's strings and running them through her fingers. Sayaka's were different from her own, pulsing just barely, making a twinge akin to the A String on the violin when plucked. Madoka pulled one, listening to the now-familiar sound ring throughout the room.

"You always look funny when you do that, what are you even looking at?" Sayaka jerked her arm away, Madoka withdrawing her hand from the others' heartstrings.   
"I'm just playing with your strings, you've never minded before..." Madoka pouted a little, rolling over and pulling Sayaka's comforter closer to her body. "Right? you don't mind?"  
"Maybe I wouldn't mind if I had any idea what you were talking about!" Sayaka muttered quietly. "What does that even mean, 'playing with my strings'? Why do you keep saying such weird things?"  
Madoka turned over, looking at Sayaka unbelievingly. 

"You mean you don't see them?"  
"No?"

\- - - 

The girl walked into the classroom, long black braids bouncing around her hips as she made her way to the front of the classroom. But her hair, although incredibly pretty, wasn't what had caught Madoka's attention.

The girls' heartlines where a huge clump, tangled and broken around her wrist, loose strings frayed at the edges. Madoka had never seen anyone with so many, not to mention strings that looked like someone had tried to hack them off with a blunt knife. the thing was, they were all seemingly headed in the same direction- could you have more than one heartline for the same person? Madoka had never seen it before, but it could be possible.

The girl introduced herself as Homura Akemi in a quiet, unassuming voice, writing the kanji for her name on the board. The teacher pointed her in the direction of a seat in the leftmost center of the room, two seats away from Madoka. Homura walked quickly to her seat, her heartlines dragging behind her in a thick braid.

Electing to ignore that day's lesson, Madoka focused on the new girl's heartlines, comparing them to her other classmates'. Unlike most she had seen, which Madoka thought looked like spider silk and that sometimes glowed different colors, Homura's were almost as thick as a needle and seemed to pulse with color- pink, purple, and black threads spun together to form the knots of heartlines that hung limply from her wrist, trailing on the floor. Madoka had never seen a heartline look so strong, though she had noticed that the heartline her parents shared was about the same thickness. Whoever Homura was attached to must have an incredibly deep, lifelong connection with the girl, to warrant a heartline like that. 

Madoka's eyes followed Homura's left hand as it reached over to the wrist with the clump, her fingers threading through the heart strings and combing through the strands absentmindedly. The rats nest of lines unraveled with ease under Homura's hand, hinting that they were much more organized than they looked. Homura twirled a particularly bright strand when Madoka realized.

Homura was touching her heartlines.

Acknowledging their existence.

Homura Akemi, the new girl in her class, could see heartlines too, just like Madoka could since the day she was born. 

Madoka touched her own heartlines- 5 neatly wound strings, 3 for her family members and one for Sayaka, a fifth for someone Madoka hadn't even met yet. Madoka liked to tug on this string, pretend it would bring this person closer to her, as if they could feel the string pulling them in her direction. It twinged slightly, Madoka musing that hers was more of an F Sharp compared to Sayaka's. She followed the vibrations travel down the string with her eyes, which would usually fade away unless the person it was connected to was close by, but this time the heartline was held taut. Following the string, Madoka rested her eyes on the person who shared her heartline.

\- - -

Homura Akemi felt a little tug at her wrist, something that she was used to- it seemed that whoever shared the haphazard tangle of heartlines enjoyed to tug and pull at theirs, and Homura found it comforting to feel the little tugs when she otherwise felt alone. she let her eyes trace the strands of the heartline, before realizing that the line was almost pulled taut, which she had never seen before. Did that mean her strings' partner was pulling harder than usual? The pulsing strand was glowing brighter and brighter, Homura following it to the wrist of one of her classmates, a girl her age with two pink ponytails and a bewildered expression on her face. 

The heartline, starting out as a thick knotted braid around Homura's wrist, thinned out as it neared the other end, until it connected to the girl's wrist with a singular strand. Homura saw a couple more strands tied to her wrist, leading off into other directions, most likely towards other people. Homura had only had one heartline her entire life, something she thought proved she must be worthless to the people around her.

Homura looked up at her classmate, meeting their wide eyes with her own. The girl seemed completely taken aback, taking multiple glances down at Homura's clump of heartlines in amazement. Homura almost smiled- the girl was definitely cute. Finally resting her eyes on Homura, the girl's features settled into a smile. 

Madoka mouthed "hello", unsure of what else to say. Homura had maybe just smiled, but it had faded away in an instand- Madoka wanted to see it again. Flashing the girl a wide smile, Madoka mouthed the words again.

"Hello, Homura!"


	2. LOST IN TRANSLATION

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: little/no speaking

Homura often found it hard to express herself through words.   
Simple requests were easy:   
"Pass me the rice, please."  
"Can I borrow a pencil?"  
"I don't feel well today..."  
It was when it came to feelings, to emotion, that Homura was at a loss. how could she put such deep thoughts into words? Wouldn't it just come out wrong?

Madoka noticed, of course. Homura found that if you stayed too quiet around people, they will work really hard to get you to speak more, their own little attempt to fix you. More often than not they found their attempt fruitless, or worse, Homura's desperate tries to get her message across- "I love you", perhaps, or "thank you for being my friend", became butchered during translation. 

"Thank you for all you've done" became "I don't want your charity", "I love you" became "Do you even care?", Homura never trusting herself to get the meaning across.

Something about how Homura pictured them in her head and how she conveyed her words just didn't add up.

Madoka did try to help her speak more. she urged on Homura's words, always gave her time to speak, dragged out a few awkward silences. Homura appreciated the effort; it was nice for someone to want her input. But overall, her efforts were unhelpful, and Homura remained unchanged. She just couldn't feel comfortable speaking her mind.

Until, on a day that Homura considered insignificant, Madoka figured out the best way to interact with Homura: touch.

Madoka was addicted to it. homura's reactions to a slight tap on her hand, how she leaned into Madoka's warmth when they hugged, Homura's newfound habit of actually initiating those touches; Madoka wanted more, more, more, wanted to truly get across to the girl in front of her I'm sorry that I didn't understand sooner and Thank you for showing me how to be a better friend.

Madoka's favorite way of saying I love you became her brushing away Homura's locks from her eyes; her cheery "Good mornings!" melted away into joined hands, and she could no longer say good-bye without accompanying it with a peck on the cheek.

Madoka couldn't help but be glad her friend was on the quieter side, she thought to herself, as she pulled the girl in question closer to her side. It definitely had its perks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, please comment & kudos, post if you have a request!


	3. HOPELESS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to proud of this one, eh.
> 
> no prompt

Again and again, Homura fell.

The first time she reset, the wounds were still fresh. Madoka's pain had haunted her every moment- the aftermath of the battle still in the front of her mind. It was no wonder that she blurted her warning in front of the entire class, that Madoka couldn't help but make a contract with Kyubey.

The second and thirds times were just the beginning of an endless loss, of Homura's eternal suffering and desperate scramble for hope because Madoka is counting on me, I can be useful, I can help someone.

I can help Madoka.

Homura wanted to give up. Every bit of her soul, every broken fragment that the Witch battered against the rubble- she wanted to give in, let it overtake her, reach her unevitable destiny of becoming a witch and undoing all the havoc that she had once prevented. Behind saving Madoka, that was her greatest wish.

Oh right.

Saving Madoka.

Homura stood again- legs shaking, intricate costume tattered, face and skin scuffed with dirt and gristle. She didn't even bother dusting off her outfit, as the next blow was coming. Homura triggered her weapon, suspending the flying carnage as she darted out of harms way and toward her eventual target.

As if she hadn't already given up.

No, no no- she hadn't given up, she'd promised, she had to save Madoka...

It would be selfish, so so selfish, for her to give up. Homura couldn't bear the thought of leaving Madoka behind.

Couldn't bear the thought of the hundreds of limp bodies, dead eyes, and lifeless hearts she had suffered through, only to try again.

Homura braced herself for the witch's next impact.

**Author's Note:**

> you can always send in a request, just post a comment!


End file.
